


Every Breath Is For You

by MagicalMarnie123



Category: Leviathan - Scott Westerfeld
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-07-28 07:25:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7630636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalMarnie123/pseuds/MagicalMarnie123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when an exiled Austrian Prince and a cross-dressing Scottish airman go to Rome to foil an attempt on the Pope's life and get stuck in a trench? Secrets revealed, loves lost, relationships tarnished, and warring Empires. This is the reality of war. This is the reality of power. This is the reality of Aleksandar of Hohenberg and Deryn Sharp. </p><p>A re-write of Goliath.</p><p>Edited and reposted from FF.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Mr. Ferdinand. Mr. Sharp.” Dr. Barlow began. “You have another mission.” Dylan grunted. He always hated to be away from the Leviathan. Alek smiled at his friend’s sour disposition at yet another mission. Alek himself thought that missions were the perfect situations for him to use his mostly-useless diplomacy skills, and it was always fun to go on adventures with his best friend. Together, they were the best at stopping conflicts and solving international disputes.

  
“Well, I hope we’re going someplace warm this time.” Dylan said, slouching in his chair, arms crossed in defiance.

  
“That would be nice.” Alek said, nodding his head in agreement. “Russia was very cold and the czar had not been very happy to see us.”

  
“Aye! And that brat Anastasia and her barking sisters were all a nightmare!” Dylan added. Alek broke out in laughter at the thought of Dylan being chased around practically all of St. Petersburg by the Czarinas. He had that kind of effect on young girls.

  
The boffin rolled her eyes. “I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere tropical.” She turned around to her desk and brought out a large, rolled-up piece of laminated paper. When she uncurled it, it was revealed to be the map of southern Europe, focusing particularly on the Italian peninsula. “I suppose it is warm. Italy is said to be very hot in the summer.”

  
“Why Italy?” Alek asked, completely serious, now. They had been there a few months before on a mission to try and convince the Pope to re-instate Alek as the rightful Emperor of Austria-Hungary.  
“Isn’t Newkirk there right now?” Dylan said. “I’m quite sure that we left him there to do some more spy work.”

  
“If you’d let me finish,” Dr. Barlow snapped at the both of them, signaling for their silence, “you’d know that your mission is to get Newkirk out of Italy without raising alarm.”

  
“How are we meant to do that?” Dylan asked, obviously enjoying getting on the boffin’s nerves.

  
The doctor’s fists balled up next to the map. “A diversion, Mr. Sharp.” She said through gritted teeth. “There is a masked ball which both Mr. Ferdinand and yourself will attend. You will be attending as an ambassador from Britain, Mr. Sharp,” she looked to Dylan, “and you an ambassador from Switzerland, Mr. Ferdinand,” she looked to Alek. “Normally, Mr. Ferdinand, I would have no objection to having you be Austrian, but times being what they are—”

  
Alek raised his hand to stop her. “I understand.”

  
“Where is Newkirk, exactly? What is his cover?” asked Dylan.

  
“Mr. Newkirk does not have a cover, Mr. Sharp. He is inside a wall, listening to all of the Italian officials in the Parliament.”

  
Dylan broke out in laughter. “Inside a wall?” He said between laughs. “Why in the name of Darwin—”

  
“The masquerade is in the Italian Parliament building in Rome. You will have to act as normally as possible. Flirt with a few girls…”

  
Dylan froze, no sounds escaped from his mouth. “You want us to go to a party, skulk around, get some intel, then sneak off and get Newkirk out of his barking wall, and flirt with girls?” He counted all of his duties on his slender fingers. “Is that all you want us to do, ma’am?”

  
Dr. Barlow looked down to her desk, opening one of the drawers and retrieving a long leather leash. “I would also like you to walk Tazza, Mr. Sharp.” She told Dylan sweetly. “Right now, if you please.” The boy let out a string of colorful curses as the boffin ushered in out of the cabin. Alek got out of his chair to follow his friend’s suit, but the boffin hastily shut the door behind Dylan. “Not you, Alek. We must have a chat.”

  
Alek gave her a confused look. “Am I in some sort of trouble? Have I done something wrong…?” He let the question trail on, but Dr. Barlow waived her hand dismissively.

  
“Heaven’s no. You’ve done absolutely nothing wrong.” The boffin locked the door of her cabin and moved to sit once again behind her desk. “In fact, since you joined our side, you’ve been nothing except a model soldier. That’s not why I wish to talk to you.”

  
“Then why…”

  
“I am worried about Mr. Sharp.” She said bluntly. “I am worried that he may do something risky or stupid in this mission.”

  
Alek looked at his hand. They had changed much over the last two years. Gone were the well-kept nails and the soft palms. His hands were callused now, rough and strong, dependable, like him. He did not miss his old, arrogant self; the version of him that was dependent on Volger and Klopp. He was alone now. His mentors were in the Swiss fort, basking in their safety, while he served on the Leviathan, trying to stop the war that he was partly responsible for. “Why would he do something stupid? Dylan is the best officer the Admiralty has, not to mention the most effective spy.”

  
“Believe me, Alek, I am quite aware of Mr. Sharp’s talents.” She said firmly, but her face showed much unease. “I just cannot shake off the feeling that there is something wrong with him.” She squeezed the bridge of her nose in frustration, and breathed out. “You may go, Alek.” She finally said. Alek nodded and got out of his chair, walking towards the door. “Just promise me, “ he heard Dr. Barlow say behind him, “you will keep an eye on Sharp?”

  
Alek turned around to face her one last time. “I always keep an eye on Dylan. He’s my ally.”


	2. Chapter 2

Deryn walked Tazza along the long halls of the  _ Leviathan,  _ slowly breathing in and out. She had no clue how much more lying she could take. She was going to have to tell him her secret soon, or else she would burst. Every time she had to sit in a room with him it was as if she were constantly getting punched in the stomach. She would mentally beg him to look at her, just one measly stolen glance, if only to make her heart sink. Barking self-mutilation, really!

Then there were the times that she would catch herself staring at him, almost possessively. It was a wonder that Alek was so oblivious to everything. The sky could be falling and he would still be focused on his damned engine.

“Why can’t he just notice me?” Deryn muttered under her breath. “Why can’t he just notice that I like him?” She looked around to see if anyone had heard her talking to herself, but there was no one in the deserted corridor. Laughing to herself, she thought of Alek’s face if he caught her talking about him to thylacine. “That dummkopf! He never sees anything! He’s about as blind as a fléchette bat!” She chuckled to herself. “I could wave my hands in front of him and say, ‘oi, Alek! I’m a barking lassie—’”

“Coxswain Sharp?” She heard a quiet voice ask from behind her. She whirled around to face the young boy that stood awkwardly behind her. He was one of the new middies, and looked barely a day over 16. In his hand was a small pile of letters, bound together by a piece of string. “There’s a letter for you, sir.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling her face going red with embarrassment. “Well, then. May I have it, lad?” The boy slipped the first letter from the pile under the string and handed it to her. “Thanks, Middy…” She wracked her brain, trying to remember the boy’s name.

“Johnson.” he completed for her.

“Right.” said Deryn, scratching the inexistent itch on the back of her neck. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Johnson looked at her with wide eyes. “Yes sir, Coxswain Sharp, sir!” The boy saluted to Deryn and scurried back the way that he had come, his boots thumping on the fabricated wood.

Deryn hadn’t even realized she had been holding his breath until she sighed out a breath of relief at the boy’s exit. She could have been caught! What  _ if  _ she had been caught? She shuddered at the thought.

She kept walking down the hall, determined to finish Tazza’s walk before retiring to read her letter. She walked at a hasty speed until she reached the boffin’s room once again. Deryn thrust the door open and pushed the thylacine into the room. As soon as Tazza’s behind disappeared from her sight, she promptly closed the door and steadily jogged back to her room.

*  *  *

_ Dylan,  _ Deryn read as she lay in her bed.  _ How are things on the Leviathan, coz? The Minotaur is wicked. News of your… endeavors has spread throughout the entire Admiralty. My mates keep asking me if the “famous Dylan Sharp” is really my cousin. I really don’t know what to tell them. My ma keeps asking about you non-stop. I swear she sends a letter everyday. She’s gotten more neurotic since you didn’t show up for Easter. Thinking about it, you didn’t show up for Christmas or New Year’s either. I haven’t seen you since that day in London. Your ma’s worried sick too. When  _ are _ you coming to visit? I know you’re a hotshot airman and all, Dylan, but you have a family that misses you dearly. Ever since Deryn mysteriously “disappeared,” my ma’s letters have come with tearstains. Tearstains, Dylan! You of all people know how rare it is for my ma to cry. Ask for a vacation. Cleared leave. Fake smallpox if you have to! Do something! Just come back home in one piece. We all miss you terribly. Your cousin, Jaspert. _

_ You have a family that misses you dearly.  _ The line echoed in Deryn’s head like a church bell at Christmas. She missed her family too. In fact, whenever she wrote Jaspert, she felt as if she was going to be torn apart, worrying about her ma, and all. She constantly worried about her brother, too. He was stationed in  _ France. _ In the middle of all the action. She missed her ma, and even her crazy old maid Auntie and her seven cats! But she couldn’t just pick up and leave the  _ Leviathan.  _ Or Alek, who would be all alone without her. Yeah, it wouldn’t hurt to go back home for a week or two, but what would happen to Alek if she went home? Deryn was his only family.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door, making Deryn jump in her bed and drop Jaspert’s letter. “Dylan?” asked the voice from behind the door.

“Come in!” She hollered as she scrambled to the floor, trying to find the letter, but she couldn’t see it anywhere. She stuck her head under the bed, feeling around in the mess that lay under it.

“Are you looking for this?” The voice behind her asked. Forgetting that she was under the bed, Deryn lifted her head, hitting it.

“Ow!” she exclaimed as a sharp stab blossomed from the back of her head. Swearing to herself, she crawled out from under the bed. A hand came down and grabbed her arm, hoisting her to her feet. “Thanks,” she said as her eyes lifted to meet Alek’s bright green ones. “Oh, Alek!”

His dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You seem surprised to see me.”

Deryn cleared her throat and straightened her jacket lamely. “I just thought that you were still talking to Dr. Barlow, that’s all.” She sat back onto the bed, hoisting her feet up, and leaning back against the wall. She patted the spot on the bed next to her, signaling Alek to sit next to her. “ So,” she began. “What did you two plotters talk about?”

“You, actually.” He said, taking his seat next to her, Jaspert’s letter still in his hands.

“Me? What about me?”

“The boffin is worried that you’re going to do something stupid on this mission.” He stated, his eyes staring at the letter in his hands. “And I agree with her.”

“What!” She exclaimed, feeling slightly betrayed. “Why are you worried about me?”

“The  _ Leviathan  _ is your life, Dylan! I took one glance at this letter and now I’m worried!” Alek waived the letter in her face. “You haven’t seen your family in two years!”

Deryn’s face paled. “I don’t want to go home.” She said so softly that her voice was no more than a whisper. “There’s nothing for me back there. It all went up in flames with that balloon.”

Alek’s eyes softened a bit. “I know you miss your father. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss my parents, but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to forget the most important lesson that they ever taught me.” He turned to face her. She had no choice but to look into his deep emerald gaze. “Family is everything. Are you going to throw away what your father gave you?”

“No,” she said through gritted teeth. She did not need a lecture, especially from Alek. The only reason that she ever did anything stupid was to save  _ him _ !

“Promise me?” Deryn narrowed her eyes. He looked as if he were going to beg soon.

“I don’t do stupid things, Alek.” She said gravely. “That’s your department, aye?”

A smile broke onto Alek’s previously serious gaze. “Funny. Just leave all of the stupid things to me.” He stretched his hand out to Deryn and pulled her off the bed. They were only two inches apart, and she wondered if Alek could hear her heart about to burst from her chest.

“Sounds like a plan.” She said, a bit breathlessly. “Do you know if there are any potatoes for dinner?”

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

There were no potatoes at the party, and according to Dylan: “It’s not a party without potatoes.” Alek just sighed and leaned against the wall once again. There was no way that he was going to ask any of the girls at the ball to dance with him. They all seemed to flounce around together in large groups. And they went practically everywhere together! There was no way to corner one of them and ask them to dance.

Dylan, on the other hand, was floating around the room with a very pretty girl. Another one. He had not stopped all night. A new girl came to him at the start of each new dance, and every break the blond boy took was like a film premiere, and he was the star! The crowd of masked girls followed him everywhere.

Alek stared at his friend through the holes of his plague doctor mask. Dylan skillfully led the petite brunette around the dance floor. His bright hair was messy, tussled around his face and tumbling across his eyes. Bright blue eyes that gleamed behind the simple white half-mask that he was wearing. Alek couldn’t help but think of the Phantom of the Opera, leading around an innocent Christine in a dizzying waltz. Dylan was no phantom, though. There was no malice or trickery in his eyed; only joy and a boyish gleam that lightened the sharp shadows cast upon his face by the electric chandelier.

Alek shook the thoughts out of his head. They were not the proper thoughts that a boy ought to have about another boy. But how could he ignore the fact that his heart clenched at the sight of Dylan gracefully dancing with another girl?

“Your highness?” A voice called from behind him, but he paid no attention. There were so many royals at this party, most of which he had never met. “Prince Aleksandar?” The voice persisted.

His eyes did not leave Dylan, and he made no movement to acknowledge the voice that was not aware of the current times. The Zoological Society paid Alek to make treaties, not recount unfortunate historical moments to snobby, ignorant royals. “I am not Prince Aleksandar.” He said simply. “I am Wilhelm Bolliger, ambassador to Switzerland.”

“Oh,” the voice said lamely. “My apologies, Mr. Bolliger.”

“Mr. Bolliger, you say?” another voice asked. It belonged to a woman. Her arrogant, snappish tone was as familiar as always. Her voice brought memories of bright red spices and cracking lightning. Memories of both hope and death. Alek spun on his heel to face Lilit’s masked face. Her brown eyes glinted behind her silver mask. “My, my,  _ William. _ It has been far too long.”

Alek smiled for the first time since the beginning of the party, truly glad to see his anarchist friend. “Lilit,” he said to her, bowing and kissing her outstretched hand. “You’re right. Two years, I believe?”

“Two years. You haven’t changed at all.” She chuckled, fingering the hem of her silver dress.

He sputtered with mock indignation. “That’s not true! I grew taller than Dylan!”

Lilit snorted. “You might have grown, but still have the same tortured prince look.” She pointed out. “Where is Dylan? I thought I saw a blond head around here somewhere.”

Alek rolled his eyes and grabbed a glass of wine from a waiter passing by. “ _ Dylan,”  _ he began after downing the alcohol in one go, “is dancing with some random rich girl. In fact, he hasn’t  _ stopped  _ dancing all night. And we have work to do!”

“Is that so” She asked, her eyebrows rose. “And you haven’t danced at all?” When Alek shook his head, Lilit grabbed the empty long-stemmed glass from his hand and gave it to one of the waiters. “Let’s go show how much years of fencing training pays off, shall we?”

Before Alek had any time to argue against Lilit’s insane proposal, she had already grabbed his hand and proceeded to pull him onto the dance floor He had no real choice in the matter except to go as quietly as possible, and not bring any attention to himself. His left hand found its way to Lilit’s waist as he led her into perfect sync with the music being played by the very bored looking band. “How come they haven’t kicked you out of the political world yet?” He whispered into her ear before twirling her around. Her silver dress fanned out, sparkling in the light.

“I am a loose rocket.” She laughed as Alek pulled her back in. “They have to keep me around in order to  _ pressure  _ the politicians of the Western world.”

“I think it’s just because you helped them usurp the Sultan.” He said sincerely. “It would be bad press to kick you out at this stage in the war. They just sent you as far away as humanly possible.” That’s what the Austrian government could have done with him, instead of giving him any hope that he would ever rule his country.

“Is that why the British didn’t take you as a prisoner? Bad press? From what my sources tell me, I gather you’ve been the second best soldier the admiralty has ever seen.”

“Second best,” he echoed. “After Dylan, of course.”

“Indeed.” At the mention of Dylan, Lilit’s eyes wandered around to find the blond boy.

“You have always had a soft spot for Dylan.” Alek chuckled. Every girl had a certain admiration for the handsome airman.

Lilit’s face flushed with color under her mask. “Well,  _ Mr.  _ Sharp is quite dashing.” She affirmed. “Are you jealous?” She asked at the sight of his now-clenched jaw.

“Of course not.” Alek snapped. “I am not jealous of Dylan. He is my best friend.”

The corners of Lilit’s mouth quirked up into a half-smile. “You’re jealous of the girl dancing  _ with  _ Dylan, then?” Alek twirled her again; the soft fabric of her dress hit his legs as it fanned out once again, and Lilit tossed her head back, curls cascading down her back.

Alek’s mouth gaped at the accusation. “You should not be saying things like that!” He shot through gritted teeth. “It’s blasphemous!”

“Believe me, Alek, it’s not blasphemous.” She said sadly. “You can’t help who you fall in love with.” His eyes drifted to Dylan, who was staring straight back at hi. Dylan gave him a small nod. The signal.

Alek turned back to Lilit. “Lilit, would you be terribly adverse to helping me and Dylan on our mission?”

“What would I be doing exactly?”

“That depends. How loud can you scream?”

_ _


	4. Chapter 4

Deryn looked around the room, trying to find Alek again on the crowded dance floor. He was no longer dancing with the silver-clad girl, who she could see dancing with another man. She was sure that she had given him the signal, so why hadn't e caused a distraction like they had planned?

He turned back to the girl that she had been dancing with. "Miss, I am sorry, but my friend has disappeared, and I must go find him." She bowed to her partner and left the girl on the floor, not caring about her fate.

Then there was a scream. A blood-curling scream that made the hair on Deryn's skin raise one by one. She turned her attention back to the floor, but all she could see was a large crowd gathering around the center of the room.

Behind her, a figure pulled her by the arm away from the ballroom. Deryn turned to face a dark cloaked figure wearing a black mask, with an obscenely large nose, reminding her slightly of Cyrano de Bergerac, with his comical looks and daring personality. Alek. He let go of her arm and continued to run down the hall. They made a sharp turn onto a second dreary hallway and stopped at the second door, which according to their intelligence was where the Italian Parliament would hold their meetings. Alek knelt down in front of the knob and took out two long, incredibly thin rods, and stuck them into the keyhole.

"Alek," she hissed under her breath, "what are you doing? You are horrible at picking locks."

"I've been practicing," he retorted, and Deryn smacked her forehead with her hand. Every mission was the same thing. Alek would try to pick the lock and fail miserably. She counted to ten in her head.

_. . .8, 9, and 10.  _ She shoved Alek out of her way and took the rods in her own slender hands. "Let's do this properly." She said to him. The rods were like an extension of her finger. She felt them hitting the round spheres inside the lock, shifting under the pressure of them. Deryn moved the rod higher by a millimeter, letting the rod slide just a little father in and. . . click! "And  _ that's  _ how it's done, dummkopf." She boasted, holding the now open door open for him.

"I had it all set, you just finished the job," he mumbled. Deryn rolled her eyes and followed him into the room.

The parliament hall was long, and rather messy. Chairs were strewn everywhere around the room, and the table in that should have been in the center of the room was overturned, as if someone had already been there. Something wasn't right.

"Something's wrong," said Alek, as if reading her thoughts. "Can we just find Newkirk and get out of here?"

Deryn turned around to face Alek. He had taken off his mask, and his hair was entirely tussled as a result. If she were not an airman and accustomed to being in a constant stage of composure, she would have blushed at how his messy hair made his eyes look even brighter than normal. "Right. We ought to," she cleared her throat, "get to that."

"Do you remember where he is?"

"He's behind a painting of some royal bloke." She said, remembering Dr. Barlow's words. "That's the last message we received from him." She looked more closely around the room, there were paintings of people on every wall, and Newkirk hadn't told them which one  _ he _  was hiding behind. That dummkopf.

Alek's eyes widened at the information. "It's going to be a long night."

"Then we should probably get started." She replied, jumping over a chair and running towards the nearest painting. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Alek turning around and running to the opposite side of the room.  _ Typical Alek,  _ she thought to herself,  _ always doing things the hardest way.  _ The portrait that she had been closest to was that of a man dressed in a fancy looking military jacket, with medals coloring the worn-looking dark green fabric. The man looked stern, and unforgiving.  _ Is this what Alek wants to be? _  She thought to herself. She couldn't imagine Alek being anything but being the adorably clumsy boy that he was. Deryn looked back and saw Alek struggling to make his way around the chairs in order to go to the other side of the room. Alek would never be like the man in the painting, he would be fair and kind. He would care about his subjects and treat them as his equals. He would treat them like he treated her. Deryn put her ear next to the wall and knocked on it, listening for any sign of hollowness or even a response from Newkirk, but the wall was as solid as a rock.

"Dylan!" She heard Alek call for her. "He's behind this one! It's hollow!" Deryn whipped around, seeing him once again at the farthest wall. She ran across the room, hurdling over the upside-down furnishings, and passing the once organized rows of chairs and large table that once sat a hundred. The portrait in front of Alek was that of a square-faced man with an abnormally large moustache that oddly resembled Count Volger's. He looked regal, but gentle, unlike the painting she had stared at. " That's King Umberto." Alek stated, pointing at the mustached man. "He's the current King of Italy."

"This is the hollow painting?" She asked skeptically. "Seems a bit obvious, don't you think?"

"Which is exactly why it's perfect." He explained, but seeing Deryn's perplexed look, elaborated. "If everyone thinks that this hiding place is obvious, it's the last place they'd look  _ because _  of its obviousness."

Deryn thought for a moment, trying to make sense of what Alek had just said. She had never been the analytical brain of the duo. That was Alek's job, as ironic as it was. She was the muscle and the spontaneous thinker. Those skills came with her disguise. "Alright, if you're sure he's in there," she raised her arms in surrender, "who am I to cross you?"

A smug look crossed over Alek's face for a moment before his brows furrowed in deep concentration. "How are we going to take  _ that _ ," he gestured to the portrait, "off the wall?"

Deryn cracked her knuckles, chuckling slightly. "Leave that to me." She opened the jacket of her suit and took out a large corked test tube from the left inside pocket. "Stand back," she ordered him, and Alek took a few steps away from the wall. As soon as she uncorked the tube, steam began to seep off the rim. She reared her arm down and threw the liquid from the test tube onto the wall next to the painting.

Where the strange odorless liquid hit the wall, it began disintegrating. Smoke puffed out at them as the wall sizzled and melted under the splash that Deryn had made.

"What  _ was  _ that?" Alek asked, coughing slightly at the wafting smoke and waiving his arms in an attempt to get it away from him.

"Hyperactively acidic plankton." Deryn said, waving the smoke away from her face. "Dr. Barlow has been working on it for a while."

"Why didn't anyone tell  _ me  _ about it?"

"This is its test run." She said, feeling the hurt in his voice. "It hadn't been tested outside of a laboratory test, and the boffin gave it to me last minute."

"And you didn't feel the need to tell me that you had a new fab for burning through walls in your jacket pocket?"

"Not everything is about you, your princeliness!" She retorted.

"But it would have been nice to know!"

"It's not even that important!"

"It's important to me!"

"Why are you taking this so personally?"

"Because you hid something from me!"

"It's not a big deal! It slipped my mind!"

"Has anything else slipped your mind, Dylan?"

Her eyes widened. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Will the both of you stop it already?" A silhouette emerged from the smoke, a black shadow in the white mist. Newkirk's blue air service jacket was spotted with the remnants of plaster from the wall and dust. His brown hair was matted and streaked with dirt. "The both of you are partners and we have other things to worry about."

"What  _ things _ ?" She asked, worry seeping into her voice.

Newkirk dusted off his jacked, trying to compose himself. "The Germans are here. They heard that Alek was going to be here and thought  _ he  _ was the one doing the recon, not me. They've planted bombs all around the building. They're going to raid the party. No one's going to make it out."


	5. Chapter 5

"What do you mean 'no one's going to make it out?'" Dylan asked, his eyes bulging out of his skull. "Are you cracked in the attic?"

Newkirk sighed at his denial. "There are three bombs planted inside the walls of this room alone. If you have some  _ miraculous  _ plan to get us all out of here alive, then please! Enlighten me, oh fearless one!"

Alek looked at  _ both  _ of them as if they had gone certifiably mad. "Are you out of your minds?" He shrieked, his rising much higher than it normally was. "There are bombs planted all over this building and you're standing here bickering?"

Dylan stared blankly at his for a moment, but then shook his head, as if waking up from a daydream. "Alek, for once in your life, you're absolutely right." He put his hands on both his and Newkirk's shoulder, the way he normally did when he was about to brief them on a mission. "Right lads. We're going to try to evacuate as many people as we can before this bloody building blows up. Newkirk, how long do you think we have?"

"Less than ten minutes, if we're lucky."

"Lovely. You're going to run into the servant's quarters then, get as many of them out as you can. Alek and I are going to charge the ballroom."

"Why can't I charge the ballroom with you?" Newkirk whined.

Dylan whacked him on the head. "Stop being a jealous ninny! I'm in charge of this mission, so what I say goes. You know the building better. Alek and I would just get lost." He looked at them both. "Now, let's get this done quickly." He said with an air of finality. Newkirk muttered something unintelligent under his breath and stalked off, his boots stomping loudly on the fabricated wood. "And move your ass, you bum rag!" He yelled at his receding form, before starting to run himself.

Alek struggled to follow Dylan as they both retraced their steps back into the ballroom. Together, they cut the corners of the hallways, the faces of the portraits that had stared back at them on their walk to the Parliament hall were now nothing more than blurs of bleak pastels and dreary grays. The gold lining on the wood paneling of the large was no longer shiny and impressive as they rammed into it, causing to crash into the walls of the other side.

"Everyone get out!" Dylan screamed to the room, his voice cracking at the volume. "There're bombs all over the building!"

Alek felt that in the years to come he would regret not stopping his friend from announcing to a room full of hundreds of people that they were in mortal peril. It was not Dylan's smartest move. It took a minute for the crowd to process what the boy had said, but when the reality sank in, there was a chorus of creaming and shouting. The panic was excruciating. Women in their ball gowns ran around the room in search of their coats and their partners. The flurry of color was like being inside of a distraught rainbow, fabrics shining off the dim lighting of the room. The men did not worry about the women, but more to their top hats and canes, worried that their best attires would be destroyed by the impending disaster.

"People!" Dylan yelled incredulously, but the crowd was in too much of a panic to listen to him. "Forget your things! If you don't get out now, you will DIE!" The last word seemed to strike a nerve, and the panic began to move faster towards the door, rather than in directionless circles around the room. Dylan ushered the crowd out of the door while Alek scanned them, looking for any missing people. He saw most of the important ambassadors leave through the double doors, but he couldn't see the most important person in the room, the Pope.

"Scheiße." He muttered under his breath.  _ Maybe the Pope already got out? _  He thought to himself, but it didn't convince him. For some reason, there was an itch at the back of his mind telling him to go look for him. "Dylan!" He yelled into the crowd. "I'm going to look for the Pope." Alek didn't wait to see if his friend had heard him, but instead ran straight out of the ballroom.

From the outside, the Parliament seemed to have a lot of useless rooms, and as Alek far as Alek could see his observations had been right. The hallways were filled with nothing but dark, empty rooms. Some of which had desks and bookshelves, and others were devoid of any useful objects. Nevertheless, he briefly checked every single one. He was in what was close to the last room that Alek checked, sifting through a desk.

"Your Eminence." Alek breathed out a sigh of relief. "Didn't you hear the announcement? We have to leave," and after some consideration, he added in a silent "sir."

"I cannot do that now Aleksandar. I must obtain one last thing." He said, as if the news had not ruffled the feathers of his bird mask.

"Am I the only one who actually wants to  _ live _ ?" Alek muttered under his breath. He walked to the Pope and grabbed him by the arms.

The Pope struggled against his hands, trying to shrug them off with all of the force he had. "What are you doing?" He hissed.

"I'm trying to save you!" Alek said through gritted teeth. He struggled to keep his grip on the Pope's thin arms, but his strength was greater than the holy man's. "Keep still." Finally, with a great outburst of power, Alek heaved the Pope up and pinned him onto the wall, his hands gathered in the silky white material of his cloak. "Listen to me!" He grumbled, is voice rumbling deeply from his chest. But the Pope didn't keep still or listen, so Alek gave him a mighty headbutt, and the older man fell limp in his arms. He hulled the unconscious body onto his back, the weight wasn't much in comparison to what he was used to lifting, and started running away from the room.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Deryn tumbled past the heavy wood doorway and kept running on the field in front of the Italian Parliament. Every so often she would push people out of her way or scream out for them to run farther, but her legs had not stopped moving. Her eyes constantly scanned the crowd for any sign of a mahogany head or a pair of emerald eyes. How had she lost him? They had been standing next to each other for Darwin's sake!

"ALEK!" She screamed into the crowd. "ALEK! WHERE ARE YOU?" There was no response from the gathering crowd.

"Dylan!" She heard a cry from behind her. Deryn whipped around much too quickly and tripped over her own feet. From the ground, she looked up, hoping to see Alek, but she only saw the girl with who he had danced with before. The hem of her long silver dress was brown from having been dragged in the grass and mud. "Dylan, wait!"

"Who are you? How do you know my name?" Deryn asked anxiously, getting up from the ground. The girl tore her mask off and revealed her tanned face. Her left eyebrow was raised to match the cocky smirk on her face. "Lilit?" She asked in shock. "What are you doing here?"

Lilit crossed her arms. "I'm an ambassador. This is what ambassadors do."

Deryn felt slightly stupid for a second, but then shook her head. "Have you seen Alek?"

"Me?" She asked in surprise. "I thought he was with you?"

"Ugh!" Deryn groaned in frustration. "He was! But then the dummkopf had to run back in!"

She started walking back towards the building, half hoping to see Alek and half hoping to lose Lilit, but she had no luck with the latter. The Turkish girl kept up with her trotting, regardless of the dangers of entering a possibly explosive building, but kept silent. Deryn realized then, that there were no officers to be found around the building. There were only civilians, and while that would be perfectly normal in any ordinary situation, she had been sure that Dr. Barlow had ordered guards to be posted around the perimeter.

A loud explosion interrupted Deryn's thoughts and the force of it threw her to the grass. The blinding light left black and white spots peppering her vision, and the heat scorched her skin. When the spots cleared from her eyes, Deryn saw that the parliament had burst into brightly colored flames. The fire licked the roof of the ancient building and black smoke escaped through the shattered windows in curling tendrils. And then the floor started shaking.

It began with just a hum, a throbbing in the dirt that caused the path of the earthworms below the grass to change their linear paths, but it built up until Deryn could see the walls of the building shake. White ash built up around it as the bricks from the roof began tumbling from their perches. Then with a loud rumble, the roof caved in on itself, the center of it crashing down through the Corinthian arches that had supported what was once the ballroom floor, and decimated the entrances to the once majestic building.

The breath that Deryn had been unwillingly holding in her chest burst out. Her diaphragm contracted and her lungs felt as if the caved roof had crushed them also. The weight in her chest stopped her breathing and she fought to grasp the oxygen in the ash-filled air. She barely heard Lilit's cries behind her, and barely noticed the fact that her eyes were burning with tears from the smoke. The tears could have been from the body-crushing pain that she felt in her chest, or from the sense of loss that had hit her like a searing thirst in a desert, but Deryn chose to blame the salt-water expelled from her eyes on the defenseless smoke until she could no longer bear to look at the destruction that lay just a few hundred meters from her feet.

Letting the unwelcome tears fall to the ground below her, Deryn hoisted herself up from the ground and faced Lilit. The turkish girl's dark eyes were rimmed with red and running from the ink she had applied to her eyes. She said nothing. Neither of them did. They both just stared into the grief within each other's eyes with an unspoken understanding. Lilit launched herself forward and let her face sink into Deryn's chest and the difference in their height was more plain than it had ever been before, but Deryn didn't bother to put her arms around the girl in any attempt for comfort. Her limbs were too heavy and stiff to move and lay uselessly at her sides. She just closed her eyes and felt her stomach trembling with irregular breathing and the occasional hiccup.

There were a few grunts behind her, but her attention was still vacant from the background noise. She felt a hand squeeze her shoulder in a gesture that she could only ever describe as loving. Deryn turned around, and in front of her, as bright and alive as they had always been, were a singular pair of green eyes.

_ _


	7. Chapter 7

Alek wasn't sure what he expected when he grabbed his best friend's shoulder, but he hadn't expected to get hit… multiple times. Sure, a hug would have been nice, or maybe even a 'hey Alek, glad you're alive', but no, Dylan turned around and immediately went bright red with anger. The boy started hitting Alek repeatedly and everywhere he could. He had a feeling that he would find bruises on his arms and torso in the morning, but Alek paid the thought no mind.

"How. Could. You?" Dylan articulated between low punches. "Have you now respect for your superiors?"

"Dylan!" He nearly screamed, and grabbed his friends flailing hands. "I'm fine. See?" He motioned to himself. "I'm quite alive!"

Dylan tore his hands away from him and brushed his pale hair away from his bright eyes. "I thought you were dead, your princeliness." He spat. "I lost you and I didn't know  _ where _  you were, dummkopf. Do you know what that's like? Do you  _ understand _  what you put me through?" The boy turned around and Alek thought he heard him say "you bastard" under his breath.

That was like a trigger. "I told you where I was going!" He snapped. "I told you that I was going to see why the Pope was—"

"You did  _ not _ ," Dylan said, poking his forefinger into Alek's chest with force, "tell me where you were going. At  _ any _  point."

Alek crossed his arms and turned his nose up in the snobbish, aristocratic way that so irked Dylan. "I did so."

Dylan was fuming. He started folding back the sleeves of his dinner jacket, preparing to rear his arm back and knock the arrogance from Alek's smirk, but before he could do so, Alek was attacked by a small figure dressed in silver.

Lilit, who both Dylan and Alek had forgotten was there in the first place, jumped Alek, nearly knocking him over. Her arms wrapped themselves around his neck and she kissed both his cheeks. She pried herself away from away from him, leaving her hands on his cheeks, holding his face. And then she slapped him. "How dare you scare us like that, Aleksandar?" She said indignantly.

Alek rubbed his tingling skin, now red from where she had slapped him. "Sorry, Lilit." He mumbled in shame and looked at the floor.

"Now, we're both glad you're alive, but you must promise me that you will never go off on your own again." She said, tapping her foot in front of her. "Well?" She snapped. "What are you waiting for? Promise!"

He turned his face up to see her scowling face. She was awfully pretty, even angry, but not as pretty as Dylan. Alek shook the thought from his head and mumbled "promise."

She continued to glare at him. "I didn't hear you."

"I said I promise." He whined, sounding rather like a four-year-old than the near adult that he was. Behind Lilit, he heard an unceremonious snort coming from Dylan.

"Good," she said, the silver dress shimmering as she shifted her weight from her front to her back foot. "Now, if you two would stop fighting like an old married couple, you would take notice of the Holy Father coming towards you."

Both Dylan and Alek looked up to see that the Pope was in fact coming towards the both of them. He was rubbing his head where there was a large, purpling bruise in the middle of his forehead; the place where Alek had head butted him. "You let the Holy Father get hurt?" Dylan hissed at him.

"Actually, I hit him in the head." Alek clarified.

"You  _ hit _  him in the  _ head _ ?" He asked, sounding both appalled and impressed at the same time. "That's like locking up a dictator in a closet! It's simply not done!"

"Well," Alek's teeth grinded roughly in his mouth, "I didn't really have a choice."

Their conversation was cut short when the Pope, for some inexplicable reason, grabbed Alek by his shirtsleeves and pulled him in for a long embrace, only to push him away, leaving his hands on Alek's shoulders. "My boy!" He exclaimed in a thick accent. "You saved me!"

Alek scratched his head. "I guess I did?" He shrugged. "I wouldn't have had to save you if you'd just  _ agreed _  to come with me."

The Pope seemed to consider this for a moment. "Child, would you mind if we spoke somewhere more private about those matters?"

"Whatever you want to say to me," he began, crossing his arms across his chest and stretched up to his full height, "you can say to my friends."

Behind him, he heard Dylan snort loudly. "Don't worry, your eminence, you can have his princeliness all to yourself." He poked Alek in the shoulder and then whispered in his ear "I have to go find Newkirk and do a damage check."

Before the blond boy could move away, Alek caught his shoulder. "You sure you don't need me?"

Dylan laughed. "I'm a big boy. I think I can handle a few royal bum-rags."

Alek nodded and said to the Holy Father "Shall we take a walk?"

"Yes." It was silent between them for a while. They walked away from what was left of the Parliament and away from the crowd of gathering people. "I knew your father, you know." The older man said softly. "He was a good man. Franz wanted to stop the animosity between Serbia and Austria. He wanted to give the Hungarians the freedom they deserved. He didn't need to go out that way."

"Sir, not to be disrespectful, but why are you telling me this?" He asked.

"I'm telling you this because you're going to need to make a choice. I am going to give you a choice."

Alek's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What choice could you possibly give me? I'm quite sure I've hit my mark for what I can do for the world—"

"Aleksandar, did you ever meet the royal family of Savoy?" He interrupted. Alek shook his head in response. "King Victor has a daughter that is about your age. Her name is Yolanda and she is still unmarried."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"If you were to marry the girl, that would bring an alliance between Austria-Hungary and Italy, Aleksandar." The older man wore an expression of amusement, which Alek did not understand. He could see nothing amusing in an exploding building or a marriage proposal.

"I am not the Emperor of Austria-Hungary," Alek pointed out. "You made sure of that. How am I supposed to make an alliance on behalf of a country that I do not represent?"

The pope sighed in disappointment. "You do not understand, child." He paused. "I will give you the certificate of legitimacy, granting you full powers of state."

Alek felt his eyes widen in surprise. "You-you mean I can rule?" He stammered. "I can stop the war?"

"If that is what you wish." The older man said.

All at once, everything he had seen in the past three years flashed before his eyes. All of the blood that had been shed, every life he'd seen end, played in front of his eyes like a movie. It was so much to take in.

"What is your answer, Aleksandar?"

Alek thought for a moment. What  _ was  _ his answer? He wanted to rule Austria again, that was true, but he didn't want to be married at the age of eighteen. He had barely lived! He'd been bred since an early age to be a ruler and a leader, but he'd never thought of being a husband. He knew marrying a young royal in order to make good political ties was inevitable, but this was too soon.

"I don't know," was his answer.

The pope's face fell into a small frown. "I see…"

"That's not what I meant!" He said quickly, trying to salvage the situation. "I just need some time to think this over. I thought I'd never have the chance to get Austria back, and now… This is just a lot to take in."

The pope looked at him with sad eyes. "I will give you a week. I understand that this is a hard decision that needs to be thought over with time and care…" Alek could swear that he saw the old man's eyes twinkle in the firelight. "But time is of the essence, child. There are only so many people who can die before the right choice is made." The pope put a hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze before moving away, rejoining the massive crowd of aristocrats that now stood gathered in front of the flames.

Alek stood in awe of the burning building. It must have taken hundreds of workers and many years to build a chateau of that size and grandeur. So much money and time put into an edifice made of stone, one that was expected to last for the next thousand years. Yet, it had taken all of one split-second decision to bring it all down. Not even a second thought or an extra breath.

Just there… then not.


	8. Chapter 8

Smoke clung to the air like a child clinging to its mother. The palace was now nothing more than a pile of ash on the ground. Alek sat only a few feet from the rubble, his legs drawn close to his chest, half in an attempt of comfort and half to keep from being completely exposed to the thick smoke.  

He did not notice when Dylan unceremoniously set himself down beside him, not too closely, but close enough. He was silent, not wanting to disturb the lack of peace in the air. 

“You want to ask.” Alek said, his eyes still fixed on the eerie cloud. “So do.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dylan’s jaw tense, as if he was grinding his teeth. “You’ve been sitting here a while.”

“Have I?” 

Dylan nodded. “We should leave soon.”

“We should.”

There was a sigh. “I know you’re not usually very eloquent, your princeliness, but this is bordering on the ridiculous.”

Alek dug his forehead into his knees. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me what’s going on without me having to ask.”

He suppressed the growing lump in his throat. “It was a lot.” He stated. He couldn’t tell if it was the tendrils of ash slowly settling themselves in the crevices of his lungs and throat or if it was the guilt of not wanting to make a decision that was making the air harder to breathe, but every breath seemed to lack the sufficient amount of oxygen to function.  “The Pope said he’d support my claim to the throne if I marry the Italian princess.” He said simply.

Dylan’s eyes shot up. “Beg your pardon?”

He didn’t bother to clarify. There was no point. “He gave me a week to decide what I want to do.”

“And what do you want to do?” He asked solemnly, his blue eyes keeping their intent gaze.

Alek scratched the imaginary itch on the back of his neck. “I don’t want to marry.”

“Are you mad?” Dylan scrambled up to his feet and stood in front of him, hands on his hips. “He’s giving you back your country!”

“But I’ll have to marry a stranger!” He repeated, exasperated.

“You’ll stop a war!” He said angrily. “Listen,  _ dummkopf _ , as much as I love the whole romantic idea of marrying for love, I’m going to have to be a logical barking person here for a minute.” Dylan’s blue eyes looked like they were on fire. “You have to decide what you want to do, Alek. You could be married to someone you don’t love and save thousands, possibly millions, from dying, or you can just forget about everyone else.” He shut his eyes for a moment and sighed. “Or you can be happy and in love and live with the responsibility.”

The crushing weight of Dylan’s words ensconced itself in his mind, laying waste to all of the thoughts that were running through his head. He wanted to be able to push aside his feelings and do what needed to be done. He wanted Dylan’s rousing speech to make him shoot up and inspire him to do what was right, but it didn’t. For the first time in a long time, he felt like a child. In that moment, Alek saw his father’s mouth curled downwards in disappointment and his mother’s green eyes cast down. There was no way to make the choice. No way to respond. So he didn’t. “Where’s Newkirk?”

“He and Lilit were making sure all of the people can get home safe. Lilit just left.” Alek could feel Dylan’s gaze fall on him, but he did not move his head. “A lot of them were pretty shaken up by tonight.”

“I guess it’s not every party that gets its own explosion.”

“I guess not.”

“They’re probably going to be telling their kids about this for years.”

“Rich dummkopfs.”

“That would have been me.” In another life. In another place. But he didn’t say that. “Any casualties?”

Dylan shook his head. “A few injuries. Nothing that won’t heal in a few days.”

“That’s good.”

“Just grand.”

Alek raised his head to meet Dylan’s eyes. In that moment, he wanted to tell his friend everything. To share the burden of a decision he couldn’t make. “What’s the plan now?”

He watched as his friend scratched the back of his neck and uncomfortably contorted his face.  “Aye, about that….”

His brow raised slightly. “Dylan….”

“Well, what you’ve got to understand is that the beastie was called back to France.” His shot up to defend himself from Alek’s glare. “And it’s pretty tense between Italy and France. Not to mention that the Italians hate us—”

“Dylan!” He snapped at his frazzled partner. “What is the escape plan?”

Dylan sighed. “We’re taking a small airship to the Italian border, then we’re taking a cargo wagon from the border up to the trenches.”

Alek blinked slowly. “That sounds unnecessarily tedious.”

Dylan chuckled. “That’s government for you.”


	9. Chapter 9

Deryn Sharp looked at herself in the mirror and wondered what her mother would think of her now. She chuckled to herself. Deryn didn’t have to wonder, she  _ knew _ .  _ “Yer too thin!”  _ she would whine indignantly, her voice sounding like the screech of a cat.  _ “Yer hair looks like a wee bird’s nest!”  _ She also knew that her mother would grab her by the shoulders and hold her as tight as she did when Deryn wasn’t almost twice her height. 

Sometimes that’s what Deryn missed most. The thick, strong arms of her tiny mother. Holding her tight. She wondered if she would have someone think of her arms as home someday. 

Not now though. The reflection of now showed a thin, tall girl mostly made of lithe muscles covering thick bones. Her breasts were small, even without the bindings, for a girl of seventeen. She often thought about whether she would have more curves if she were shorter, if her body mass would redistribute into waves of feminine prowess.  __

The airship’s washroom had done wonders for her outward appearance. She had been allowed to step inside and wash out the soot that had clung to her hair and face, which had made her look like a chimney sweep, rather than the airman she was. 

They had even given her scissors to trim her hair, which she had not had the chance to do in a few months. Deryn could not remember if she looked more feminine with longer hair. Her face had always been made up of sharp corners and angled lines, did her hair make her seem any different? 

She shook her freshly combed hair. Doing this made her hair look naturally tussled, which was apparently a riot with all of the eligible (and some ineligible) ladies who saw her. The attention was nice, but Deryn mostly did this to annoy Alek. 

Packing away the supplies that she had taken with her into the washroom, Deryn walked out into the main cabin, closing the door behind her. She saw Alek in the sitting corner, looking almost equally as clean as she now was, save for a small sooty smudge behind his ear. She smiled to herself. How had this boy survived up to this point? 

He was staring intently at his nails, picking aimlessly at the dirt stuck underneath them. They both knew that no amount of picking would ever make them clean. Dirt, blood, and motor oil was probably ingrained in their cells at this point. 

Alek looked up at her. "Hey." He said quietly. 

"Hey yourself." She smiled. "You're looking like a right noble again. All you need now is a fancy gold crown and you're ready to assume the throne again."

He gave her a green-eyed glare. "Dylan." He warned. "It's not funny."

She took a seat in the chair next to his. "Oh I think it's pretty funny. I also think it's a right shame that you have a chance to end this dumb war and you'd rather sit on your tiny arse."

He gave her a look of pure exhasperation. "I fight with you in this dumb war every day. I'd end it in a heartbeat if I could."

"Then why don't you?" She snapped. "You sit here feeling sorry for yourself, fighting as if you've got something to prove, but when you're finally able to do something to save your friends, you don't!"

Alek shot up. "I'm afraid!" He said through his teeth, not raising his voice. "I'm afraid, alright?"

Deryn felt the muscles around her eyes soften. "Oh, Alek." 

"I don't need your pity." He grumbled. 

"It's not pity." She reached out and grabbed his hand. "I know it's scary. We've already lost our childhood, but sometimes we've got to make decisions that are bigger than ourselves."

She could see the corners of his mouth quirk up a bit. "When did you get so wise?"

The corners of her own mouth twitched slightly. "It's one of the after-effects of being your friend. Now sit down, dummkopf."

Alek obliged. Deryn scanned his face. In the two years that she had known him, he had evolved from nobility to just another airman. The lines of worry stretched across his forehead like a hapharzardly done charcoal sketch, betrayed his otherwise youthful face. 

He was Atlas, in a way, holding the weight of the world on his shoulders, and maybe that's why he always slouched so much. So many deaths and so many unknown and familiar faces lying in the dirt every day, all lying on his broad shoulders. 

Their choices had torn their childhood from their faces. 

Deryn looked out through the window of the airship. She could not see the ground below the grey clouds but she knew what lay below them. Airmen had it easy, they flew above the fray of bullets and bombs and trenches. 

"I'll do it." Alek whispered beside her. "I'll send word to Volger to bring a Walker to the French countryside."

"Good."

"I'm not saying that I'll marry her."

"Then what are you saying?"

"I'll meet her. Then I'll see if I want to marry her. I'll give her a chance."

"That's all I ask."

"Fine."

"Fine."

There was a slight pause. "Where's Newkirk anyway?"

Deryn shrugged. "Probably tripping on something."


	10. Chapter 10

If there was one thing that perpetually perplexed Alek, it was Dylan's incomperable ability to look cool and disinterested, seemingly without any effort whatsoever. Every time he attempted to do the same, he came off as angsty and broody. While he had been inside the army post stop, Dylan had taken to leaning at the entrance and casually scope the surroundings of the small French village that they had landed in the night before. 

The small airship that they had taken to the French-Italian border had landed in the early hours of the morning, far later than they had expected to due to the conflict close to the border. They had been forced to circle around the town for several hours in turbulent airspace until being cleared for landing. The whole experience had left Dylan and Newkirk anxious and feeling helpless. They were not used to being passengers who had no place helping on an airship. 

He made his way towards Dylan and gave him a small nod of the head, signaling that it was done. 

"You've done it then?" Dylan asked plainly. 

"They said it should take a few days, but that's how long it will take to get to the Leviathan anyway."

"Good."

Alek nodded lightly. There was a terrible turning in his stomach. "Am I doing the right thing?"

Dylan frowned. "I think you'll just have to take a leap of faith."

"What if it ends terribly? What if this princess is a horrible person?"

His friend let out a loud snort. "Alek, you're going to be the one with the power, not her. Women, royalty or not, are always going to have less power than men. You could set all of Italy on Fire and there'd be nothing she could do about it but sit and watch."

"I wouldn't set Italy on fire."

"It's an example, dummkopf."

"A rather violent one, don't you think."

Dylan gave him a glare. "A woman could be the world's best airman and still not be allowed to join the Air Force."

Alek grimaced. "That's a bit daft."

"Hmm." His friend agreed. "I knew a girl once who was twice the airman I'll ever be, and she wasn't allowed to join the air force because she wasn't a man."

"I'd like to meet her someday." Truth be told, he never did understand why women were not allowed to join the army. It seemed to him that there were no major reasons why women could be considered weaker. He'd always admired his mother and her fight to be taken as seriously as his father had been. 

Dylan smiled a small, resigned smile. "Maybe you will." He said softly. 

Alek's chest clenched for a moment. Everyone always said that Dylan was dashing because of his strong, angular features, but Alek thought that Dylan was soft and round. The curve of his lips and the height of his cheekbones. There was a feminine air to Dylan that almost seemed misplaced with his boyish bravado. 

"Alek?" He was broken out of his momentary trance. "Are you all right?"

Alek shook his head. "Yes. I'm fine. Just lost in my own world."

"You'll make a good husband, you know."

He was taken aback at this. Not once in his many ponderings on the idea of marriage had the thought of being a good husband even crossed his mind. He just thought about whether or not Yolanda would be a good person, or how he was going to end this blasted war. But being a good husband? He hadn't given it much thought. 

"Really?"

Dylan nodded. "You're not an arse, which is definitely good."

There was a pregnant pause. "That friend of yours, the lady airman, is she married?"

Dylan looked to the cobbled stones of the street. "No. She was in love with a boy, but he only thought of her as one of the boys."

"Why didn't she tell him how she felt?"

"She was afraid that if she showed him how she felt, he would have run away."

"She should take a leap of faith."

Dylan turned to him, his piercing blue eyes filled with what seemed like hope. "Aye," he agreed. "Maybe she should."


	11. Chapter 11

_ The house was shaking. It was actually shaking. Deryn knew that the house was old because her Da had told her that it was.  _

_ "Old houses breathe, little bird." He had told her. Old houses creak, yes, but shaking, that seemed dangerous.  _

_ She pulled the covers up to her nose, trying to stiffle her crying. What if the lightning hit the house and set it on fire? What if she couldn't make it out? What if her family couldn't make it out? Jaspert was a daft bugger, he would never make it out alive.  _

_ She brought herknees to her chest and held them close, making her no more than a lump in the small wooden bed. She was trying her hardest not to cry, but she kept having to sniff the snot back into her nose loudly.  _

_ There was another crash outside and she yelped in fear at the noise.  _

_ "Barking Spiders!" She heard a deep voice curse outside her door. The door opened and light poured into her small room. "Deryn?" Her father called out. "Are you all right love?" _

_ "Aye." She sniffed unconvincingly. _

_ "Oh, little bird." Da sighed. He stepped into the room and sat on her bed. The wood creaked under the added weight. He set the glow worm lamp that he had been holding onto the dresser next to her bed and took her into his arms. She furrowed into her father's strong chest. His shirt smelled of lavender and dirt. Like  _ him. _ "It's all right, little bird. It's all right." _

_ Another crash sounded outside and she almost leapt out.  _

_ "It's so loud, Da." She whispered.  _

_ "I know, love, I know." He rubbed her back gently, his hand tracing circles and spirals on the flat pane. "You know, light moves faster than sound. So if you count from the flash of the lightning to the sound of the thunder, you can tell how far away the storm is." _

_ There was another flash of light through the window. "One," her father began, "two..." _

_ She joined him. "Three, four, five..." _

Deryn opened her eyes. 

_ Six, _ she counted and another thunderous roar hit the ground. There were no lightning flashes now, only the sound of the gun shots in the distance. 

_ Seven _ . 

Someone in the truck coughed.

_ Eight _ . 

The truck hit another pothole and she was thrown into the wall again. Alek was sitting across from her. She could see him open his eyes in the low light. 

_ Nine. _

Newkirk was snoring next to her and she couldn't understand how he could sleep through this hell. 

_ Ten. _

The truck came to a shivering stop. Alek's brows furrow in confusion at the sudden halt. 

They had been in the truck for nearly five hours. They had had to wait till nightfall to leave the small war-torn border town where their airship had landed because moving during the day had been deemed unsafe by the French military that were escorting them back to the Leviathan. If the night was considered safe, then Deryn shuddered at the thought of what the road must be like durin the day. 

"Why did we stop?" Alek muttered. 

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Should we check with the driver?" 

Before she could answer him, she heard a roaring scream from the driver's cabin of the truck.

"GET DOWN!"

She didn't have to think, she grabbed Newkirk's shirt and dove down onto the truck's floor before bullets came tearing through the truck's canvas covering. She felt Newkirk shudder under her as he awoke. 

"We need to get out!" She said, and started crawling towards the back hatch of the truck, staying low and keeping her ear towards the ground. She lifted the canvas slightly to see the muddy landscape outside and saw that there was a trench to her right, and mounds of barbed wire to her left. The clouds were flashing in the night sky above her. "There's a trench to the right, we need to get there as fast as we can. Is everyone okay? Has anyone been hit?"

"I'm good." Newkirk said over the gunshots. 

"Your princeliness?"

"Yes, Dylan." He grumbled. She could almost laugh. Of course Alek would chose to be moody in the middle of a gun fight. 

"Good. I'm going to get out first and get underneath the truck, then you follow me. Aye?"

"Yes, sir." She heard them both say. 

She peered again through the canvas, making sure that she was safe before hoisting her leg quickly through the back of the truck. The muddy ground sank under her feet like quicksand and she dove under the truck. It was more like swimming in a swamp than anything else. 

The beasties that had been pulling the truck lay dead on the ground at the front. She assumed that the driver was probably dead as well. She hoped that he had been able to flee. 

Alek and Newkirk flanked her at both sides as they faced the trench. She felt her chest heave as her heart barreled into her ribs repeatedly. There was a loud bang and the ground a few feet away from them exploaded into muddy fireworks. 

_ One.  _

She faced her right. "Princeliness,  you go first. Keep low and don't make a barking sound." 

Then she turned to Newkirk. "You go after me, understand?"

They all looked out onto the maze of barbed wire that stood before them, sheltering the mountain of sandbags that kept the trench safe. There were no gunshots or flashes coming from the trench ahead. They had to have known that there was going to be a transport truck moving through this area. There was no other reason to open fire. At least none that she could think of.

_ Two. _

"Go!" She pushed Alek from under the truck and watched as he slowly got up and surveyed his surroundings. She would have gone first, but then she would not have had a clear view of him at all times. He was her ally, and allies watch each other's backs. 

_ Three. _

Deryn crept out from under the truck, staying low towards the ground and scanning her surroundings. Alek had just walked around one of the barbed wire mounds. 

_ Four. _

From the corner of her eye, she could see something moving. Newkirk had yet to come out from under the truck. Another flash colored the sky white and she saw the glint of the gun in his hands, pointing towards Alek with rage. The prince's back was turned. She wondered how he didn't see the man with the gun behind him. 

Allies watch each other's backs. She felt her legs move into a sprint as she ran around the barbed wire.

"Alek!" She screamed, her voice echoed like the boom of a thunder clap. 

_ Five. _


	12. Chapter 12

He heard Dylan’s scream and then the sound of the gunshot. Time seemed to slow down as he turned to see his friend, standing blank-faced, his pale hand covering his stomach. The blood on his skin was like red paint in the snow.

There was another shot, and he saw the enemy soldier sink down into the mud. Dylan looked up at him, his ice blue eyes wider than he’d ever seen them. The boy’s hands were shaking.

Dylan’s knees broke from under him and he sank into the ground. Alek bolted to his friend, his muscles working automatic while his head screamed panicked nonsense.

“Dylan.” His voice was breaking.

The boy smiled. “I’ve been shot.” He declared. “I’ve been fucking shot.” The smile on his face dropped as his face grew paler. “I’ve been shot.” He said again.

Alek put his hands on Dylan’s broad shoulders. “We need to move. We need to get out of here.”

Dylan looked down at his hands, covered in dirt and blood. “A-Alek…” He stuttered and looked up at him. “I’m s-sorry…” His weight gave out from under him and Dylan came tumbling forward into Alek’s arms.

“Dylan!” He shook the boy in his arms, but he didn’t come to. He shook him harder. “Dylan!”

At that particular moment, Alek could only think of three things. The first was that he’d wished that he had been shot. The second was Dylan’s eyes and the idea of never seeing them again. And the third was that his life was completely and utterly meaningless if he never heard his friend’s voice ever again.

What was the point of being a prince or an emperor if the person that you cared about most in the world was dead? What did it matter about stopping a war, if the one person you’d wanted to save was not there to enjoy peace with you?

Alek held Dylan in his arms, blood seeping into his uniform. There was a stray lock of muddy blond hair covering his still face. Alek pushed it away tenderly. Allies have each other’s backs. Dylan had taken a shot for him. The person he loved most in this world, the first person he’d loved since his family was massacred, was gone.

He wished for a moment that there was another German gunman laying in wait to kill him too. It would only be fair.

His father’s face came into the recesses of his mind. That man would have given—no, _gave_ everything up for the woman he loved. _That_ was courage. Courage was protecting the people that you love, and he had failed in protecting the last person that he loved.

 _No,_ he thought. This would not be the end. Dylan was not allowed to die on the battlefield like this.

Alek pressed his ear to his friend’s chest and heard a faint heartbeat under his thick uniform coat.

He hoisted himself up from the mud and dragged Dylan onto his back. Seventeen was far too young to die. Whispering he small prayers that his mother had taught him as a child, Alek wove between the wire mounds and ran towards the trench ahead.

“Stay with me, Dylan.” He said between breaths and words directed to God. “I need to you stay with me.

He walked along the wall of sandbags until he found a ladder leading down into the trench. In its time of use, the trench would have had every inch teeming with men sitting and standing shoulder to shoulder, but now there was only eerie silence, surrounded by sounds of shells and bullets hitting the ground around them.

Dylan’s legs hung over his shoulders, waving limply as he ran deeper, trying to find a dugout. He was thankful for all of the climbing and lifting he had had to do on the _Leviathan_. The work had made him broader and stronger than he ever would have been.

There was a dugout just a few feet ahead of him now. A shell hit the wall of sandbags and dirt came flying down like hail from the sky. Alek kept running.

The dugout was small and bare, signs that any people had been there were scarce and inconsequential. He laid Dylan onto the ground gently and started looking around the former quarters for anything useful for first aid.

Finding nothing useful, Alek tore off his jacket and thrust it on the floor and then tore off his white undershirt. The cold, stifling air made him shiver.

He knelt down next to Dylan and started working on unbuttoning the boy’s jacket. He turned to the side and heaved onto the mud. There was blood everywhere. The Air Force issue white undershirt was a deep red color that was sticking to the boy’s chest. There was a large, angry hole right under Dylan’s heart that looked like a sickly, volatile void.

Alek swallowed his disgust and tore off his friend’s shirt, only to find bandages wrapped around his friend’s ribcage, caked in wet blood. Had Dylan been injured recently? They had spent almost all of their time together and he didn’t recall Dylan having been hurt. He found the end of the bandage and ripped them off.

The bandages were hiding no injuries. There were no marks below them. There were only two slightly round breasts.

Alek was suddenly very confused. Why had Dylan been wearing bandages around his chest? Was he worried that his minimal body fat only appeared in breast fat? He knew that when some men got fatter, their breasts could grow to look like a woman’s.

He shook the thought away, and then set to ripping up his shirt to make a makeshift bandage. 

* * *

 

Everything was covered in blood. It seemed that every time he made an effort to try to stop the bleeding, more of it appeared. He had managed to find a stack of army uniforms and had set to making bandages out of the discarded shirts and covered Dylan with the jackets.

His friend’s face was bright red and hot to the touch. Beads of sweat slipping off Dylan’s face at a rapid rate, so Alek wet a cloth with rainwater and set it onto his forehead in an attempt to bring down his temperature.

He sat next to Dylan for what seemed like hours, listening to his ragged breathing. Any murmur or whine would automatically set him off into a panic.

Occasionally, Dylan would mutter something in his haze. Most of it was unintelligible and random, but sometimes the boy would call out for him, or his father.

Dylan had never really talked about his father in depth. Alek had heard many stories about Dylan’s uncle, who was the airman that had inspired him to join the Air Force himself. In fact, Dylan seldom talked about his own parents. Mostly he talked about his uncle Artemis and his cousin Jaspert.

It’s not like he could complain, they were entertaining, and Alek never spoke about his own parents unless prompted to. It was for selfish reasons. He just wanted to keep them to himself.

Dylan shivered again, and Alek took the wet cloth off of his forehead and placed a hand to feel the temperature. He was still burning up, but there was nothing that he could do. They were in the middle of nowhere, most likely presumed dead, and Dylan was in no way well enough to be moved out of the dugout.

He looked at the pile of Dylan’s bloody clothes, which he had set in a corner. They were starting to attract flies from the smell. He figured he would have to get rid of them some time soon. Once Dylan was less feverish, he would go out in search of food and water.

The sight of the bandages made him wonder about why Dylan had been bandaging his chest. While trying to stop the bleeding, Alek had found nothing on his friend that would warrant them.

Then he stopped. Dylan had _breasts._ He knew men who had breasts from being overweight, but Dylan was absurdly skinny. The boy ate more food than anyone he knew and still managed to be a stick. Not only that, but he was always clean-shaven. They had been on missions before that lasted weeks, and yet, he never grew a beard. Alek had always thought that he was just a late bloomer and couldn’t grow facial hair yet, but now that he thought about it, it was awfully strange when combined with the bandages.

Alek tried to shrug it aside. Dylan was a boy. That was that.

But then… why did he shower alone? Dylan had never showered with other boys. He often wondered why his friend never bathed with the other airmen, but rather waited until the early hours of the morning to have the bathing room alone.

He found his eyes drawn to Dylan’s nether regions and became disgusted with himself, but his curiosity got the best of him. Feeling increasingly improper, Alek lightly lifted Dylan’s trousers, trying to stay decent and not encroach on the injured boy’s privacy.

Alek knew nothing about female anatomy outside of books and his father’s uncomfortable speeches about becoming a man, but he knew enough about his own body to know that Dylan Sharp was most definitely a woman.


	13. Chapter 13

Deryn opened her eyes. She saw only darkness, and smelled only the putrid stench of bodily odors mixed with blood.

She felt feverish within her uniform, but her forehead was cool and oddly wet. The cool feeling soon vanished but quickly returned, as if someone were pressing a cool cloth on her forehead. Her fingers began searching when pain struck her abdomen.

And her memories dawned on her.

She was in a trench, somewhere in France, which explained the lack of light and god-awful smell. She had taken a shot for someone, someone who she deeply cared about. Starting to panic about who had gotten her there, Deryn tried peeling off the cloth, but her hands were stopped and laid to her sides.

"Shh," he said gently, placing the cloth back. "Stay still." He paused. "You should have told me." His voice sounded measured, as if he were restraining himself. "I have no secrets from you. You could have returned the favor."

His words were more painful than gunshots when they hit her stomach. The only difference was that the pains lingered this time, making her stomach heave at her self-disgust.

"Alek..." She started, but where could she start? So after one last wave of her stomach, word vomit spilled from her mouth. "I was afraid. I was weak and afraid, and you have every right to hate me. I'm sorry Alek, but I was scared that I would lose you if you found out."

Deryn could just make out the figure of the boy kneeling next to her. She could see the edge of his chin and the curve of his cheeks; after all, she had spent hours studying every angle. He looked down at his hands, no longer being able to look at her.

"Allies have each other’s backs.” He said quietly. “How can we be allies when I don’t know who you are?”

"You do know me," she begged, grasping his hand with hers. "I'm the same person that I've always been, Alek."

"You are not the same person!" He yelled. Deryn winced at the volume. "God! I don't even know your name, how do you expect me to trust anything you say?" Alek turned way, facing the opposite wall of the dug out.

With a lot of effort, and pain, Deryn managed to get herself up. Using the walls of the dug out to steady herself, she slowly tested out her legs. Her vision doubled with every step she took. Reaching his back, she put her hand on his shoulder, both as a gesture of kindness and as a way to steady herself.

"It’s Deryn.” She said simply, thanking God that she could finally tell him. “I have only ever lied to you twice. Once about that, and I lied to you in Istanbul, when I said that I was on a secret mission to find you. I was really on a secret mission to destroy the Kraken nets, but my men were all captured and killed, so I went find you when I was about to be discovered. I went to find you because you needed Volger's help and I couldn't get him out. I went out myself. I broke orders for you. Because I love you. I thought if you knew, then you wouldn't want to be my friend anymore, much less my _best_ friend," she said in her normal voice, no longer having the need, or strength, to hide herself. She was already beginning to feel faint, her legs felt as heavy as lead, her abdomen pulsing with pain.

Just then, Alek turned around to face her, and, right in time, caught her. He put an arm under her shoulders are helped her stay up. She could feel the blood draning from her head.

"You are such a dummkopf," he said as he gently laid her down.

"I thought you would say that. It's all right. You can leave if you want to. Go to Italy, marry the princess. Save your country and your people," she said, failing her attempt to sound convincing. The truth was, when Alek was gone, her chest seemed to become a black hole, void, and filled with sorrow.

"Barking spiders, I'm not leaving you here, Deryn."

“I would understand if you did.”

“I would never leave you.” He said harshly, and then sighed. “To be honest, I’m angrier at myself for not noticing it earlier. I mean, ‘ _Mr._ Sharp’? How thick could I be?”

Deryn smiled. “I’ll admit, Bovril was being pretty obvious.”

“I’m angry that I thought I was an abomination for so long.” His long lashes cast down and Deryn felt her heart sink.

“Abomination?”

“Because of the _feelings_.” Alek grimaced at the word, as if it was hard for him to say. “Being in love with a boy is not something that is widely accepted among the royal community. And I do love you.”

Alek leaned down and Deryn could feel the electricity between them. As if two electric wires were being held together, making sparks between them.

"No," she said, putting her hand between them. "I love you, but I can’t let you just throw your life away like this. After all that your father worked for, are you really going to throw away all of that away? For me?" She put her hand on his cheek, feeling how high her fever really was when it touched his icy skin. Deryn could feel his eyes glowing through his radiating gaze, even if it was too dark to see. Bringing her elbows up to lift herself, and ignoring her aching abdomen, she kissed him.

It felt like fire, for Deryn. First it was the spark, but then it turned to a slow burn, a fire in the snow, desperate to thrive, and then it slowly grew into a wildfire, the type that could destroy forests. Wherever he touched, it was as if he had ignited a flame under her skin, which burned to her core, and she could feel him pulling her towards his body, until she was fully sitting up and turning to face him. He lay back as she turned, synchronizing with her as if they were identical clocks. Her hands wandered around his head, letting the tendrils of his dark hair wrap around her slender fingers. Soon she was on top of him, unbuttoning her dress shirt as quickly as she could. Alek was kissing the exposed skin of her shoulder, making his way up to her mouth as he kissed her; her heart beating faster every kiss that he planted.

"Yes," he breathed between a kiss. He stopped at her neck and looked into her eyes. "I would give up everything for you.”

“Well, then your princeliness,” she smiled, “careful with the hole in my side.” Deryn grabbed his face and pulled his lips to hers.

That night, they explored every secret that they had kept from each other, and from themselves.

***

If Artemis Sharp had ever impressed something upon his daughter during his short time on earth, it was this: some dreams come true, and others get tucked into the drawer where all of the other wayward dreams are kept.

So when Deryn awoke for the second time in the dugout, she knew that she had one of two options.

The first would be to leave everything behind and run away with Alek. Let the great Dylan Sharp be presumed dead and allow him to die in the dugout.

The second was to go back to the _Leviathan_ and go down in a self-inflicted blaze of glory. If she did, then maybe, just maybe, Alek would go marry the barking princess.

The first was the easy choice and clearly what her heart wanted. The second was what was best for the world. It was a guarantee that her brother would live a safe life. A guarantee that Alek would be safe for the remainder of his days. Maybe they wouldn’t be together, but they would be alive.

Deryn often thought of her father in times like these. She remembered what it had been to grow up without one and she wouldn’t wish it on anyone in the world.

Alek was the type of dream that she would have to keep in the sad drawer of unatainable dreams, she knew this. A cross-dressing airman and a runaway Austrian prince. It would have made a beautiful story, but that is all it would ever be. A story.

Careful not to wake Alek, she got up and dressed herself, wincing every time she moved to quickly and irritated her side. She found a small piece of paper and a pen in Alek’s Air Force jacket and scribbled a quick note.

The boy had an impressive capability to keep sleeping, she could almost laugh at it. He looked like a child sleeping, like the years of war hadn’t reached him and taken away his youth.

“Goodbye, sweet prince.” She whispered and stepped out of the dugout towards the _Leviathan_ to face her web of lies.


End file.
